how'd we get so lucky?

I had heard the stories about crummy German neighbors... horrible landlords... moldy bathrooms and caved in ceilings but that didn't deter us once we decided our "home" would be away from the safety and "security" of the military installation. We listened to those stories but remained unfazed, summing them up to hearsay or fear of living among unfamiliar Germans in their country versus living among familiar Americans in their isolated, barb wired, ponds guarded fences. I remember one night when we were spending time with friends at their apartment near downtown Stuttgart, they told me they preferred living off post just to "get away" from the military ins and outs. It's easier to bring work home with you when you live across the street from your place of employment. Not to mention you can't really experience Germany the same way when you're surrounded by Americans... English.... and even Burger King. Where's the "foreign" in that, I ask you?

When Chad and I decided to go to Germany we knew it was for a few simple reasons. To live in a country other than our own, travel, and experience Europe like so many people only dream of experiencing. As we've learned, the only way to REALLY do that is to live away from the safe bosom of the installation and instead find home among people who do things differently, don't always speak English, but who are kind and generous all the same.

I know that sort of kindness and generosity exists among Americans and in America, no doubt. However, I also know that the eleven months I spent in Louisiana (in two different homes) I only spoke with my neighbors a hand full of times. In the four short and fleeting months that we've been on Wiesentalstrasse, I have been rescued from starvation and dehydration from my neighbor, Helga. I have been blessed with daily 'good wishes' from my neighbor, Eurica, who also allowed us to use her ax and pick during Chad's must.get.this.stump.out.even.if.it.kills.me four weekend rampage. Last weekend, she handed me a bucket full of gooseberries and last night, minutes before Chad and I were going to escape to bed, our doorbell rang and she brought us a jar of gooseberry jam (homemade of course). Not to mention, the dogs have benefited ten fold since she routinely passes over chicken scraps and frost burnt pork chops for them to enjoy.

The list of niceties could go on and on I'm sure and from the looks of it, it will only lengthen in time. I am forever grateful to my neighbors, even the ones who just smile and wave, for accepting us into their neighborhood. Also, for our landlord who liked us so much they cut us a deal when we weren't comfortable with the first contract and who remodeled this whole house to make it the most energy efficient on the block, costing us only 60 Euro a month in electricity.

Everyday I'm glad I didn't listen to the fears or stories of others. And if anyone were to ask me about moving off post, I would just refer them to this blog and probably tell them that maybe some of us just get lucky.